Justice? Or Punishment?
by courderouge2006
Summary: He became Sheriff to bring justice back to a town that needed it. He's always known that the law he worked behind was right, and just. But are the lines always so clear? Is it always simply black and white? Another story in the Sheriff Kent AU series.
1. Chapter 1

Guess who's back? Back again? Sorry it's been so long, just had to deal with real life for a while. Playing around with another crossover here, hope y'all enjoy. And hope y'all haven't forgotten me.

/

Whitney sat down on the bench with a groan. "I get the fact this case is bigger than just Metropolis, and definitely bigger than Smallville, but why are we taking this guy to the state capital Bossman? Most of his crimes were committed right here in Metropolis, from this prison."

Clark shrugged, reaching for the body armor Metropolis PD leant to them. "We just follow orders from the higher ups Whit. And for us, that's pretty much everyone." Chuckling, he strapped the vest into place, pulling his uniform shirt over it.

Whitney sighed. "Fine. Just can't believe they're giving us the ball here."

"Well, weren't you quarterback for the region champs back in high school?"

Whitney threw him a look. "Yea, 'til some punk kid came along three years later and won the state title."

Clark smirked again. "I remember that kid… handsome guy."

Whitney laughed mockingly and stood. Reaching to the top of the locker to grab his vest, he noticed a pistol falling suddenly as he pulled the vest.

Just before he could grab it, a second hand shot from seemingly nowhere, catching the firearm before it slammed to the floor. Following the arm up, Whitney saw a gruff looking guy. He had several scars over his face, dark black hair and a very serious demeanor. "Good catch."

Standing back to full height, the man never took his stern eyes off Whitney. "You should be careful. When you stop respecting the firearm, people get hurt."

Whitney could only nod. "Yea. I usually don't make mistakes like that. Would have gotten me drilled in the Corp. Just kinda thrown off today, we had this whole protective detail thrown on us at the last minute."

The man's eyes narrowed slightly. "Corp?"

"Yea. Marine Corps, honorable discharge. Whitney Fordman." Extending his hand, he flashed his trademark grin at the tall, stern man.

His gaze not softening, the man shook Whitney's hand. "Frank Rook. Honorable discharge out of Desert Storm."

"A fellow Marine, nice to meet you." Nodding over his shoulder, Whitney continued. "This is my boss, Sheriff Kent."

Clark glanced up and nodded, standing quickly after he finished securing the leg guards they insisted all of them wear on top of the body armor. "Pleasure to meet you. Anyone who served is good people by me." Stretching his hand out to the man, Clark grinned.

Rook stared at the proffered hand for a moment before accepting, squeezing firmly. "Nice to meet you too Sheriff. Did you serve?"

Clark shook his head but was cut off by Whitney. "No, bossman here took a different route to the uniform. Small town kid, sees all the bad stuff going on in his hometown, goes off to school and majors in criminal justice, comes back and kicks out the corrupt sheriff before cleaning the whole town up. Then goes on to capture many bad guys, big and small, leading us to our former deputy today, Billy Edge."

Rook's eyes shot up to meet Clark's gaze again. "You're the sheriff of Smallville? You're the people who took down Morgan Edge, his son, even a Luthor who everyone thought was dead." Tilting his head slightly, Rook pulled another incident from his "files". "I believe you're name also came up in breaking up a foster home conspiracy, decades of child abuse no one stopped."

Whitney turned to Clark again, shocked. "When did that happen? I don't remember us doing that?"

Clark coughed once, not looking back to his deputy. "It's not one of my… most publicized moments. It didn't happen in this state actually."

For the first time, Rook's face softened. His lip curled up just slightly. "You're one of the good ones. Glad to know."

Shrugging, Clark put an arm over Whitney's shoulder. "Couldn't do it without my people."

Rook extended his hand to both the men again, stepping closer after Whitney had walked off hearing his name called. "Your vest is dipping in the middle." Tapping it with his knuckles, Clark heard a muffled thump on the metal plating. "There's supposed to be another plate in the front." Heading over to the closet with extra vests, Rook picked one up from the pile of unusables, pulling the metal plate out. Shoving it into place, he secured the backing again and nodded to Clark. "Be careful Sheriff. Lot of dangerous people out there."

Clark just nodded. "Believe me, I know. Be safe yourself."

Clark had almost reached the door before he suddenly had a thought. "Hey, are you on our detail…?" But looking around, he couldn't see Rook where he had been seconds earlier. Glancing around the locker room, he just shrugged. "Guess he's on another assignment."

/

William Edgar Morganton, aka Morgan Edge Jr., found himself marched out into the front lobby of the Metropolis Police station. He smiled at the men heading up the transfer team. "Boss, Whitney! It's great to see you guys. How are things back home?"

Clark just grinned in return. "Just fine Billy. How are things at your place? You and your roommate getting close?"

Billy's face twitched, but his smile didn't falter. "Everything's just fine Clark. How's your leg doing by the way? Heard you got a booboo a while back."

"I'm sure it's much better than your knee. I've heard those kinds of injuries take years to get over." Stepping closer, Clark signed the papers held out to him, taking official control of the transport of the prisoner. "Let's go, junior. You've got an appointment to keep." Gesturing to the men behind him, over half the group men who had worked with and been endangered by Billy, his group circled the prisoner and led him out the front doors. The media and some civilian groups were packed in around the steps of the station. Clark had the local police start making a path for them to reach the transport truck.

"Wow, nice to know I've got fans!" Billy shouted to his former boss.

Clark just shook his head. "Pretty sure a good many of them would stick the needle in your arm themselves, given half a chance. Now just shut up and get to the…"

The gunshot rang out loud through the air, even over the yelling of the people and the reporters looking for a quote. Lois Lane was near the front of the group and looked around to see where the shot had come from… but no one was brandishing a weapon in near sight. Turning back she was just in time to see Clark hit the steps, a smoking hole in his chest. "CLARK!"

The officers reacted immediately, drawing weapons and looking around for the shooter. Billy saw his chance. Gripping his hands together he slammed them up into the groin of one of the local officers in plain uniform. Grabbing his weapon Billy fired into the air repeatedly, sending the people all around into a panic, scrambling for safety. Shuffling as quickly as he could with bound legs, he pushed his way through the crowd, threatening people and causing more chaos.

Glancing back he only saw Clark on the ground, unmoving, with Lois and a medic at his side. Whitney was looking around the crowd, for him he had to guess. Crouching and slipping through the vehicles parked at the front of the station, Billy hurried across the street to an alleyway, grinning at his good fortune. One of the contracts he put out must have taken the opportunity, and killed one of his biggest problems at the same time.

He didn't see the black haired man on the building opposite the station house with the still smoking rifle, watching as he ducked into the alley.

Running through the alley, Billy was looking all around for whoever it was that helped him escape. He didn't notice the thin loop of cable that slipped around his neck until a few steps later. Reaching up to grab it, he was suddenly pulled back and then up off his feet, just as someone in black dropped from the fire escape he was hanging off of by his neck. Gasping for air, he looked the man over, trying to beg for air.

"Hello Edge. We've never met. But this meeting is long past due." The man was in full tactical gear with the crest of Metropolis PD on the sleeve. "I've been following you and your father in the news. You played the system, but then you showed your true colors. You could have gotten a lot easier sentencing if you had just kept your cool, why'd you take the chance?"

Billy struggled, trying to get the air to beg, but he just struggled more.

The man shook his head. "You did it because it's in your nature. You're a criminal. It's part of who you are. And you'll keep doing it as long as you're able, won't you?" Raising his hand that held the other end of the cable, the man let Billy down enough for his toes to touch the ground below him.

Finding some relief, Billy gasped in oxygen as quickly as he could, grunting. "You son of a bitch I'm gonna…" His words were cut off again as he was suddenly yanked back up by the rope.

"You've said enough. Now it's time for this to end." The man pulled a pistol from his belt, aiming it between Billy's eyes.

"ROOK! Stop, now!"

Rook looked past Billy to see Sheriff Kent standing at the end of the alley with his weapon drawn, aimed at him. He spun Billy around as he was hanging, still keeping the gun pressed to the back of his head. "Good to see you up and around Sheriff. Nothing personal."

Clark glanced down at the torn fabric of the vest he still had on, and the bent metal plating. He chuckled a bit, but it sounded more pained than humorous. "Yea well, you could have just asked. You know I can't let you kill him, not like this. The courts are going to give him his justice."

Rook shook his head. "No they won't. Money's already passed hands. The judge is in deep to some of Edge's dummy companies on gambling debts and loans. Some of the evidence is already missing. In 36 hours he'll be out on a technicality, and you won't be able to touch him Sheriff. This is justice."

Clark shook his head. "It… I don't… even if what you're saying is true, we'll get him. He'll mess up again. This isn't the right way."

Rook sighed loudly. "You've killed before Sheriff. I've seen the files. You've killed, and not just once or twice."

"That was different. Those were armed men, they knew what they were getting into. It wasn't cold blood, not like this. This isn't justice!" Clark took a step, aiming the gun a little tighter, staring straight between Rook's eyes down the sights. "You know this isn't justice."

Rook's expression finally shifted. His lip curled just a bit, grinning at the younger man. "I wish I still had that idealism. And that faith in the system. I bet you were one hell of a boy scout."

Clark didn't move. "This is the last chance I'm giving you. You're already going to lose your badge over this, don't make me take away more."

Rook shifted to the side, giving Clark a more open shot. Billy twisted still, gasping for air that wasn't coming. "I don't have a badge. Not anymore." Reaching to the shoulder of the vest, Rook snapped the catches away, letting it fall to the ground by his side. Gripping at the middle of the uniform shirt, he yanked, showing what was beneath.

Clark's eyes narrowed, as he looked closer, then widened slightly. "Not possible."

Billy felt himself turned to face Rook a bit and noticed the shirt. Amidst the struggles, "oh shit" was easily readable on his lips.

Rook reached over toward the wall of the alley, looping the cord around a support arm for the fire escape Billy hung from. "Time to make a choice Sheriff. Catch me? Or save the murderer? Your choice." Yanking on the cord to secure it, Rook fired the gun once, and took off running.

Wincing at the gunshot, Clark looked up expecting to see Billy's face turned inside out, but he was still alive, gasping and turning purple. "Shit." Rushing over, he kept looking for Rook, but there was no sign of him. Holstering his weapon Clark grabbed Billy around his knees and lifted, using the other arm to pull the cord from around his neck. "Don't think for one minute I don't want to let you keep swinging you bastard." Setting him on his feet, Clark kept a firm grip on Billy's arm so he couldn't slip away.

But after he took the moments to call in to the other offices, he noticed Billy was still gurgling. "The rope's gone, you can breathe now. I'm not falling for it Billy." When blood started running from his mouth, Clark realized something was amiss. Leaning in to check his neck, something behind Billy caught Clark's eye.

A slender knife handle was buried in Billy's back to the hilt, below his left shoulder a bit. "Oh dammit." Setting him on his front, Clark ripped the prison outfit a bit more to check the wound. Blood flowed out from around the handle and he knew if he pulled it out more it would flow harder. "Son of a bitch, I didn't even see him do this." Grabbing his radio he called for the medical team again, putting a rush order on it.

Billy stopped gurgling twenty seconds before the EMTs reached him.

/

The team leaders from MPD and the Smallville Sheriff's Department were in Maggie Sawyer's office. She was on the phone with the state capitol, giving an update on what they knew. Hanging up, Sawyer rubbed the bridge of her nose. "So, we had a fake in our building, almost lost a fellow officer in an escape attempt, we lost a prisoner, only to find him but be too late to save him after the fake assassinated him in cold blood. Does that about cover it all?"

Clark simply nodded.

Another voice rang out. "We didn't lose anybody, the rednecks you gave this detail to did. I could have told you they would screw this up. In fact, I did tell you they would."

Clark turned to glare at Turpin. "I didn't see you catching up to him, and you weren't the one shot in the chest Turpin."

"Detective Turpin, Kent. Detective. I earned that title, I didn't kiss babies and sell pies to swing an election from yokels for my job like some of us here."

Clark was on his feet before Turpin could even blink. "One more damn word out of you right now and I swear I will beat you into the ground so badly you'll be short enough for me to give my mom as a lawn gnome, got me Turpin?"

"ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU!"

The men turned to see Captain Sawyer glaring at both of them. "Detective Turpin, sit down and shut up. You too Sheriff Kent! This is getting us nowhere."

In the corner of the office Whitney chuckled softly to himself. "Not me getting yelled at for once." Sawyer glared at him and he made a zipper motion on his mouth, going back to being completely silent.

Clark slumped back down in the chair, his thoughts racing. He barely picked up something Maggie said. "I'm sorry, what?"

Rolling her eyes, she repeated. "I said I'm glad that we didn't lose you in the escape attempt."

Clark just shook his head. "I wasn't in any danger. He knew I was the best target for the distraction."

"Why do you say that Sheriff Kent?"

Clark pulled the front of his t-shirt out a bit, staring at the massive bruise starting at his sternum. "How many plates do your TAC vests usually hold?"

Maggie raised a brow, confused at his question. "Our vests? Why?"

"Just… how many do they come with usually?"

Maggie stood slowly and crossed her office to a door. Opening it she pulled her own vest out in case of emergencies around the station. Setting it on her desk she unsnapped the holding and pulled out two heavy metal plates, letting them land on top of the vest with a thump. "Our vests come with two heavy duty plates, able to stop most anything a crack head or desperate thug with a gun would be carrying."

Clark sighed and reached for the shot up vest on the floor next to his chair. Stepping in front of her desk he pulled out three bent plates, dropping them on her desk. The bullet had done the most damage to the top, piercing through it, and a smaller hole could be found in the middle plate. The third plate was bent but not pierced.

Captain Sawyer's eyes widened as she picked up the top plate, looking through the hole. "How did… how did you know? When did you put the third plate in?"

Clark shook his head. "Not me. Frank Rook. He told me my vest was missing a plate in the locker room before the detail started. He put the third one in my vest. That's why he took the shot on me. He knew I'd survive."

Turpin tossed one of the plates back down noisily. "So why would some scumbag hitman go out of the way to make sure he didn't kill a… cop… just so he could get to kill a prisoner?"

Clark walked across the room, crouching and rooting through the file cabinets. "It's not his MO. He doesn't kill the innocent, or clean cops."

Captain Sawyer crossed her arms. "You talk like you know this man. Have you met Rook before Sheriff?"

Picking out one file, Clark stood again and came back to the desk, shaking his head. "No. But we all know him. Or know of him." Opening the file he turned it around and dropped it on the desk facing her. "Frank Rook. Should have figured it out from the name and the face."

Maggie Sawyer looked at the file and blood left her face immediately. She covered a gasp with her hand, shocked to her core for the first time in years.

The file of Frank Castle stared back at her.

/

There you go. I hope this one will bring out some good storytelling. And there will be a lot of Clois, I just wanted to set the tone quickly.

And for the record, my Frank Castle is based off Thomas Jane, the best Punisher in film to date.


	2. Chapter 2

Here you go folks. Sorry took so long, real life and such. Happy Fourth of July, be safe. Thank you to any servicemen who might read my stories, I hope I can give you some entertainment. Only a drop in the bucket compared to what y'all give us.

/

Lois was pacing outside Sawyer's office, waiting to hear anything from Clark, Whitney or the captain. The door swung open suddenly and Turpin stomped his way past her, pushing her roughly. "Hey jackass, why don't you watch…?"

Turpin turned suddenly, glaring at her. "I don't care what your boyfriend lets you get away with because you're polishing his knob, but I'm not gonna be distracted by a pair of tits and a short skirt, so don't push me Lane." Poking a finger in her face, he advanced on her. "If I had my say, you'd be both be up on so many charges right now, by the time you got out papers wouldn't be in print anymore!" He poked Lois hard in the chest… once.

Clark and the others stepped out of the office in time to see Turpin face down on a desk with his right arm bent behind him, one of Lois' hands pushing his elbow in the wrong direction while her other hand gripped his index finger, bending it back almost far enough to touch his forearm. Clark sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, while Whitney coughed into his hand to keep from openly laughing. Sawyer just shook her head.

Lois tightened up the pressure on the hold. "I understand it's a big moment for you to get that close to a girl here Skippy, but if you touch me there, or anywhere, again I'm going to break your hand off and help you give yourself your first prostate exam early, got me?"

Turpin glared in her direction, unable to contort himself enough to see her fully. "Let me go you stupid cu…. AHHHH! I got it, I got it!"

Releasing him quickly, Lois noticed they had an audience. Straightening her blouse, she cleared her throat and made her way over towards them. "So, what's the scoop?"

Captain Sawyer looked at her detective walking away grimacing as he held his arm still extended. "Do I even want to know what brought that on in my station?"

Lois looked off in the same direction for a moment. "Oh he just threw out some disparaging remarks about myself and the sheriff here, then brought my professionalism into question. Oh, then he felt it appropriate to touch me in an improper way. Well…" She gestured to the upper part of her chest with her hand. "He really only got as far as the northern slopes, but I felt it was an attack on my physical well-being and responded accordingly. Is that a problem?"

Captain Sawyer raised a brow and then looked at Sheriff Kent. "Remember when you thought things were going to calm down and go back to normal after the first Edge bust?" With a smile breaking through she headed back into her office.

Clark and Whitney locked eyes for a moment before turning back to Lois. She had her best innocent face on, which for her still looked pretty guilty. Clark just chuckled and reached out, cupping the back of her head and pulling her forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Normal is overrated." The trio headed out of the station, climbing into Whitney's cruiser and heading for home.

/

Clark hardly said much through the night, even at supper when Martha was still fussing over him and had finally calmed down. She had seen the news report when they showed footage of Clark being shot on the steps and had been frantic until she'd reached Lana, passing along a message from Whitney that Clark was fine. Lois and his mom had both been asleep for a bit when Clark got tired of sitting downstairs and seeing the random news feeds about the day's excitement. Heading out to the barn he filled his time up tinkering with odd jobs, fixing equipment, replacing this and that.

He had just finished fixing the pull chain on the old weed eater when he reached into his back pocket for a hand rag… pulling his pistol instead, aiming it into the dark corner across the barn. "Come out, now."

Frank Castle stepped out of the shadows, plain black over shirt and jeans blending in. "When did you know?"

Clark didn't even blink as he followed the man's movements. "About a minute after I got to the bench. Something smelled too clean around a bunch of greasy, burnt out parts. But I didn't hear a weapon cocked or a slide moving, so I figured it was best to wait and see what you wanted."

Castle grunted and one corner of his lip twitched. Clark figured that was as close as the man got to a smile or laugh anymore. "Not bad. I was a little worried you'd shoot first and ask questions later, but that's not your style is it?"

"No, that's yours." Clark wiped his other hand on his jeans and steadied his gun hand. "You're coming in with me."

Castle stared back at him. "You think you can take me in? You couldn't take the shot to stop me earlier."

"Yea well, I won't make that mistake again. Frank Castle, you are under arrest for the murder of William Edgar Morganton. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you…" Clark started walking around the bench toward the vigilante.

Castle didn't move. "We're not that different Sheriff. We're cut from the same cloth."

Clark scoffed. "No, we're not. I uphold the law, you bastardize it."

With a growl Castle stepped closer, the barrel of the pistol almost pressing against his chest now. "No! I stop those who cheat the law, who treat it like toy and don't respect it. What you and your people can't do, what you won't do, that's where I pick up the slack! When the system fails, innocent people get hurt and no one is forced to pay for it."

Clark held his ground. "It's not perfect, but it's what we swore to uphold. You made that same oath, to honor and uphold the law. Some sense of honor."

"I wonder what Kyla thinks of your sense of honor now." The name had barely left his lips when the pistol was aimed directly between his eyes. The look in the sheriff's eyes had Frank questioning his approach for the first time in a while.

Clark took a deep, shuddering breath and calmed himself down quickly. "Don't. Don't think you can come here and start playing your games and get me to allow you free reign around here. You're not going to appeal to my 'humanity' and remind me the system failed me once, so you must be right, is that how it goes? It won't work. The system failed then, but I have made it work to the best of my abilities since then, and it does work! People like you undermine it, and cut us off at the knees! You don't think that now they're going to go after the Morgan Edge case now? They're not going to file for every advantage they can since you played us and murdered his son from inside the force? How do you justify that part of what you do? How many cases do you ruin because of interference?"

Castle twitched, just barely. "Maybe it does happen occasionally. But I pick up the pieces you let slip. We're a team Sheriff Ke…" He was cut off when the barrel pressed directly into his forehead now.

Clark smirked just barely. "You're taking one for the team then. Turn around Castle."

Frank sighed and turned slowly, stepping toward the wall of the barn. "I don't think you get the big picture here Kent…" Suddenly he launched a kick back at the sheriff, catching him in the ribs.

Clark grunted but reacted quickly, answering with his own kick. Catching Castle in the back, he sent him face first into the hard wall, hearing the wood groan from impact. "Knock the shit off, it's just gonna add up Castle!"

Castle twisted on the floor of the barn, hooking Clark's leg with his feet and twisting, knocking Clark back just enough to let him dive, tackling the sheriff to the floor of the barn. Both men wrestled over the pistol, until Clark twisted and tossed it away, not wanting to give Castle the chance to use it. Head butting the vigilante, Clark posted a boot in his gut and grabbed Castle's shirt collar, pulling hard.

Castle hit the support beam hard, landing upside down and groaning. Both made it to their feet just as Clark threw a hard punch. Castle ducked it and hit several shots to Clark's ribs. Clark took the pain and grabbed Castle by the back of his shirt, pulling him in suddenly and rocketing a hard punch into his stomach, driving the air from the Punisher.

Castle hit his knees, gasping. Thoughts of the Russian flashed through his mind at the impact of that punch and he pushed himself to his knees. Blocking another right, and then ducking a left, Castle raised his arm to block another punch when Clark hit a hard straight kick to his left leg. Castle felt the muscle start to Charlie horse instantly. As he stumbled, he felt Clark's arms wrap around him and lift him, slamming him into the support beam again, harder this time.

Clark wrapped his arms around the beam and gripped his fingers tight, squeezing hard and pushing his shoulder into Castle's abdomen. He'd drag him into a cell unconscious if he had to.

Castle tried getting air, but it wasn't working. Getting his arm free, he brought the point of his elbow down hard between Clark's shoulders. The kid didn't move an inch. Castle did it again… and again… and again. Finally he felt Clark sag some, his arms loosening. On a last ditch effort, Castle elbowed Clark again and brought his knee up into the sheriff's stomach, hoping to get loose.

Clark grunted loudly as he felt his grip slacken, letting Castle go. Castle grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt and pulled hard, rocking Clark's head into the support beam and knocking him loopy for a moment. Before his vision cleared, Clark felt arms wrap around his neck from behind and a weight on his back. Sputtering, he felt blood running into his mouth, probably from his nose or lip. Stumbling forward he grabbed the work bench for support, trying to work his hand between his neck and the arm around it. The bright light from the shot to his head was swapping quickly with darkness, and he felt his legs start to weaken.

Fumbling around for something, anything that could help him, Clark's hand wrapped around something on the bench. Reaching up with his free hand, he found Castle's head and gripped him by the hair tightly as he brought the engine casing of the weed eater up fast, slamming it into Castle's face.

Castle dropped to the floor clutching his bleeding face. Clark fell forward, palms pressing into his temples, trying to alleviate the pain he had thundering through his skull. Both men's vision cleared around the same time, seeing the other sitting across from them on the floor, faces bloody and bruised.

Castle chuckled for the first time. "Not bad for a kid from nowhere. Not too bad."

Clark glared back at him, his hand pointing proudly to the now blood soaked insignia on the t-shirt he wore. "That's Smallville. Remember it, it's brought down a lot of criminals. One more tonight."

Castle shook his head, his hand bringing up the pistol Clark had tossed away in the fight. "I can't let you do that. I just wanted to try and talk to you, convince you to see how things are Sheriff Kent."

Clark grunted, ignoring the stab of pain in his head it caused. "You're wrong. The system can work, we just have to do our jobs right!"

Sighing, Castle let his head thumb back against the wall. "We're not that different. We both changed because of loss."

Clark nodded to that. "Yea but that's where it stops. I started working for the law… you abandoned it." Wiping the blood from his lips, Clark winced as he pushed himself to sit up a bit straighter. "I know you lost your wife and son. I can't imagine how that felt. But what you did to the Saints in Miami… and then in New York, wiping out four gangs in a blood bath. And then all your hits like today… I can't let you keep doing that Castle. It's a mockery to what I work for."

Castle stared the younger man in the eye, the gun lowered a bit. "You met with a dirty cop today. After our alleyway introduction."

Clark felt his throat tighten up suddenly. "Wh-what… who are you talking about? At the Metropolis PD?"

Castle nodded.

"But who? I ran across dozens of officers today. If you know who it was, you need to let us know, we can handle this the right way!"

Castle shook his head. "Standard issue was two, not three."

Clark looked at him, highly confused, until he noticed Castle popping the clip from the pistol and putting it on the table as he stood to leave. Clark knew there was still a round in the chamber. Clark stood slowly, following Castle's steps toward the barn door. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Castle smirked, barely. "You're a good cop. You'll figure it out." Pulling back on the slide he ejected the round from the chamber, grabbing it from mid-air and tossing the pistol and the bullet at Clark at the same time.

Clark grabbed the gun and the round, grabbing the clip from behind him and slamming it into place before he ran outside, gun drawn and looking for Castle. All he saw was darkness, not a sign of where the man disappeared to.

Growling, Clark stumbled back into the barn as he felt the brawl catching up and slammed his fist down on the bench, leaning against it as he forced himself to think back on everything that had just occurred. Rubbing at the side of his head, he forced himself to put it together, thinking through the pain. "Two, not three… two, not three… What the hell is he talking about?"

Glancing down he saw the blood dripping onto his t-shirt. Wiping it away with a grumble he winced suddenly, feeling the still growing bruise from the gunshot earlier today. "Dammit, that hurts…" and it came to him. The vest. Clark stood slowly and looked around, and then another thought hit him. "He knows that we talked about that in the office. He heard all of that. The dirty cop was in that meeting. Fuck."

Staring at the single round in his hand, the one that had been trained at him, he shook his head. "I miss psychotic, drunk, shotgun wielding brothers and moonshine stills. I miss those days, I really do." Tucking the bullet into his pocket, he shut the lights off in the barn, heading to the house for a nice shower and some sleep. Maybe concussions were good for something after all.

/

(A.N.) It's no surprise that I take characters from the show and tweak them to fit the stories, fill out the characters. Hell, I made Lana likable apparently. Just wanted to remind that this is far off canon for upcoming chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the looooong disappearance. Writer's block sucks. But here you go folks, thanks to everyone who's stuck around and is still with me. Thank you for the support.

/

Whitney jumped up from where he was stretched out on the sofa, hand going to his hip on instinct. Squinting into the darkness, he let out the breath he'd been holding. "Oh damn… Bossman, what the hell are you doing in this early?" Fumbling for his cell phone he checked the time, rubbed his eyes vigorously, and then tried to read the time again. "You're not supposed to be in until 1. Is the sun even up yet?"

Clark limped over to his desk and flopped into the chair with a groan. Flicking the lamp on, he squinted along with the deputy at the sudden light. "He was at the house."

Pushing himself up to sitting Whitney ran his hands over his face. "Who was… wait, Castle?! He was at the farm? Is Mama Kent ok?"

Clark nodded. "He was in the barn, waiting for me. He wanted to talk about some things. And he had a lot of information that was only discussed in our meeting with Sawyer today. Things no one outside that room should know."

"So… he's got an inside line of information from one of us that was there, or he managed to actually bug the office of a captain in the Metropolis Police Department. Since I didn't spill, you didn't spill, and Turpin's got better odds on that bug up his keister dying and becoming a nice friendly fella, he bugged the placed." Chuckling slightly, Whitney reached for the water bottle he'd set on the table next to the sofa. "He's good. He's damn good Bossman."

Clark grunted. "He said one of the cops in the building today was dirty." Glancing over as Whitney choked on a swallow of water, Clark shook his head. "And before you start in on 'Lana would kill me' I know it's not you so just calm down. But to be completely honest…" he paused, rubbing a hand over his stubbled face. "I don't know, maybe he meant someone in the meeting we were in, he wasn't exactly direct and forthcoming. Is it really so much to ask?"

Whitney couldn't help but chuckle. "Somehow, Frank Castle doesn't strike me as the type to be overly forthcoming with information in these types of scenarios Bossman. He's been living off the grid so long, hiding from everyone unless absolutely necessary. I can understand that to a degree, it's what we used to have to do on some missions. You blend, you disappear. You learn to get by without talking to anyone for days at a time. And Castle's been living like that for over ten years now. I don't agree with everything he's done, but I wouldn't wish that kind of life on anyone."

Rubbing a hand over his face, Clark grabbed his coffee cup and chugged the rest. "I gotta figure out who it was he was talking about. That's the only link we have so far."

"Well, on a brighter note a surprise came in yesterday afternoon when you were at your mom's place." Hopping from the couch, Whitney gestured to Clark to come with him. Walking down the hall to the rear of the station, Whitney stepped out the door to the garage bay. Waiting for Clark he stood next to the wall.

"What's the surprise, Riley backed into another light post? I swear he does more damage to that car than I've done to any of mine…" Clark was cut off when the light switch clicked and the garage lit up. He stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening.

Whitney snickered at the reaction. "Funding came in from the state finally. Apparently since we did most of the maintenance on our cruisers and didn't send in huge bills, they sort of missed us when it came time for upgrades for a few years. They made up for it, don't you think?"

Clark only nodded, reaching out and running his hand along the hood. Walking along the car he couldn't help the low whistle he let out. "These… are ours?"

Whitney nodded. "Yup. Pursuit model Chargers. The new Crown Victoria of law enforcement. Grill guard, rough terrain tires since we are country yokels, engines kicked up a few notches and all the perks. I like the color too, don't you?"

Clark could only nod again, stepping back to look at the deep blue with the department crest set on the doors. "Have you tried it out yet?"

Whitney shook his head. "The guys on duty tonight were the first ones. Figured after getting shot at you deserved first crack between you and me."

Looking over with eyes narrowed into slits, Clark stared at his friend for a moment. "Bullshit, you've already been tearing the road up haven't you?"

"Hell yes Bossman, and these things are awesome! The motor… screw purring, that thing growls! And they handle so smooth. Give it a shot." Keys flew through the air right into Clark's hand. "This one's yours."

Clark slid into the driver's seat, running his hands over the dash and steering wheel. He wasn't really the type to get caught up in perks and shiny frills, but this… this was different. Firing it up he revved the engine a couple times before grinning out the window and throwing it in gear, leaving a little rubber in the space as he took off out of the garage.

Hitting the button to close it up, Whitney just grinned as he headed back into the station. "Give it three days before Lois talks him into breaking that car in." Halfway to the office he started making plans to see if he and Lana could beat that.

/

Two days passed with no new leads but plenty of action. The Punisher had taken out several of the more notorious lawbreakers in the surrounding counties, from a loan shark with blood on his hands to a meth manufacturer endangering an apartment building and peddling his wares at local teenage hotspots. But there were no leads toward actually finding him. In fact there was nothing except for the growing frustration spreading through Clark with each passing hour.

Clark read the e-mail he'd just received from a neighboring county's office, but there were no signs of anyone matching Castle's description in the local motels at all. Muttering under his breath he crumpled the fax saying the same thing from a Metropolis contact and tossed it at the trash can, missing by several inches.

"Guess that answers why you never played basketball, even if you are eight feet tall."

Clark didn't even look up. "Not the time Whit. Just… not right now."

Whitney crouched and grabbed the paper ball, tossing it into trash. "Another no tell motel with no leads?"

Clark grunted, not even wasting words.

Crossing the room with a sigh, Whitney stood next to the desk, tapping the folder in his hand against the cluttered top. "Lemme run something by you then, not like you're drowning in tips so far."

The silent brooding suddenly broke as Clark slammed his hand down on the desk, splitting the pen he'd been gripping apart and dripping ink over his hand and blotter. "Damn it Whitney, I don't need sarcasm from you right now! I'm trying to find this guy before he keeps killing people!"

"He took out a tweaker selling to teenagers and a mobster wannabe that preys on desperate families trying to stay above water, oh trust me Bossman, my heart bleeds for them." The deputy's voice lacked his usually jovial tone, coming off much more intense.

"That's not how we work, Whitney. We follow the law, and we uphold it, we don't put ourselves above it. What's going on with you, why are you standing up for Castle? Why are you backing him?"

Shaking his head, Whitney tossed the folder over onto the sofa. "Are you gonna sit there and say you haven't felt it before? You haven't ever wanted to bend the rules, knowing maybe we didn't have enough to really get someone for what they did? That it came down to a game of inches, where just one wishy washy juror could be the difference between guilty and innocent?"

Wiping at the ink staining his hand, Clark shook his head. "We do the best job we can, then it's up to the lawyers and the judges. We can't overstep our boundaries, we're not the judge and jury and we're damn sure not the executioners Whitney."

It was quiet in the office for a little bit, until Whitney looked back to his boss. "You didn't answer the question Clark." Standing, he walked back over to the desk. "Wanna know my answer? Hell yes I've thought about it. Every drunk driver we pick up, I flash back to people we knew back in school that got killed on the highway my senior year by drunken frat boys. Every drug dealer makes me think of that smack getting peddled to your classmates that had kids driving a hundred miles an hour out in the canyon. That fire we couldn't pin on the tweaker but we knew he did it? That fire took out two families and he laughed when he walked out because we couldn't get anything to stick to him. So yes, I've thought about it a lot. And don't you lie to me and say you haven't, I know you better than that."

Clark's teeth scraped together hard enough to spark. "You don't know me as well as you think you do obviously."

"That's crap and you know it, I saw how hardcore you got in helping Bart out. You telling me you wouldn't like to get your hands on the bastard who did that to him?" Seeing the shocked look on Clark's face, Whitney kept going. "Didn't take a genius to see what had been done to the boy. And I can read medical files too, I've gotten pretty damn good at it lately hanging around you. So don't tell me you wouldn't want five minutes alone with the guy that did that to him, that tortured him growing up!"

Taking a deep breath, Clark let it out with a shudder. "I did get my hands on him. When you were recovering after Adam, that's where I was. I had him… right there. So don't tell me I don't know how I would react in the situation Whitney."

Whitney just nodded slowly. "So you understand it. Then why are you trying to cut this guy off at the knees if he's doing what we want to but can't, answer me that Clark!"

"BECAUSE I COULD BE LIKE HIM WAY TOO EASILY!" Clark stood quickly, pacing with heavy, echoing footsteps. "I had the bastard that hurt Bart, and so many other kids Whitney! So many kids that he'd hurt, two were playing in the yard when I was there, fresh bruises and all. When I told him I knew what he'd done and how he'd done it, and that I could prove it that was it. He made the first move, and I just saw red… and before I realized it he was on the floor and I had my boot above his head. And it flashed through my mind, how easily it could be done. Decades of proof of abuse this guy had toward so many kids, and I was a decorated officer… it would be self-defense. And I wanted to do it." Clark looked up finally, unshed tears of frustration and anger hazing his view. "I… I should have done it. But there's a difference between what we do and what Castle does. I know that I can at least get to sleep most nights. And you can too. Can you say the same about him?"

Whitney snorted, a wry grin crossing his face. "I doubt he has much trouble sleeping because of a few scumbags like Billy."

Clark shook his head. "That's not why. He lost everything. Everything. His wife, and his kid… gone. Me and you, we still have everything to lose. If we go down his road, that's it for us. I wouldn't be able to look Lois, or mom, or Kyle in the eye knowing what I had done if I turn into Castle. All he has to haunt him are nightmares and ghosts. Mine would still be here, alive and breathing, and tormenting me worse every day. You can try to lie to yourself, but it's the same for you. If I have no choice, I will put a man down. But I'm not going into a situation with that being my only intention."

Whitney glared across the room, his jaw set in defiance. But slowly he loosened his stance, finally nodding in acceptance. "You're right, like always. Dammit." Reaching behind him, he picked up the folder he'd been carrying. "But you're wrong in how you're going about this." Tossing it on Clark's desk he turned and walked out of the office.

A shrill whistle stopped him in his tracks before the door shut. Sighing he turned around and went back into the office. "I'm not Shelby, and you better not have been whistling at my ass like you have at Lois'."

Clark's face almost broke into a grin. "Sit… explain this to me."

After listening for a while, Clark nodded slowly. "All good points Whit. Run with it." Standing, Clark pulled his cap on and reached for his jacket, hitting a few keys and shutting his computer down.

Whitney watched wide eyed as his friend geared up to leave. "Uhhh… you've been pretty much sleeping here every night this week. Where you going Bossman?"

Clark glanced back over his shoulder with a grin. "I've got a mom who keeps nagging me to visit and a beautiful fiancée I've been ignoring for too long. I'm gonna go see them. You're working double anyway, use the time to hash this theory out. Night."

Everyone watched carefully as the Sheriff who had been on edge for days was walking out the door, whistling a little tune.

/

Clark sat at the counter of his mom's house, tracing his fingertip over a groove in the countertop. Sometimes when things were stacking up on him and he felt all the priorities crushing down, it helped just to come back here and relax. He was startled from his thoughts by someone bumping into his side.

"Nickel for your thoughts?"

Raising a brow he looked over at Lois. "Isn't it usually a penny?"

Lois shrugged. "I've never been one for the 'usual'. That might be why we work out so well. You're not exactly the norm for small town Kansas."

Gripping her hand, he smiled and kissed her temple softly. "Lucky me." Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close. "Sorry I've been busy the past few days."

"Please, like I haven't neglected you for a story here and there. I've been pretty gung-ho in my own way now and then."

Clark smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her hand.

Martha walked over then, setting down a stack of plates followed by a cake dish. "Fresh out of the oven, I hope you both have some room left. Clark you can cut us all a slice, Lois… why don't you get the coffee sweetheart?"

Lois rolled her eyes, biting her lip as Clark stifled a laugh. Apparently they were too nervous to test if her propensity for messing up cooking could spread to simply cutting a cake. "Sure thing, Mrs. Kent. Right away." Trying not to smile she went and got fresh cups for everyone.

When they were almost finished, Martha wiped her hands off on her napkin. "I wanted to discuss something with you honey. Something important."

Glancing over at Lois, Clark set his fork down, feeling his pulse start to quicken. "Mom, what's wrong? Is everything ok? Are you…?" Lois' hand squeezing his grabbed his attention, stopping his line of questioning. "S-sorry. What is it mom?"

Martha smiled softly. "I'm fine sweetie. But, I've been doing a lot of thinking. This house… it's been a wonderful home for me for so long. But your father isn't with us anymore, and you're making your mark on the world, building your own life. This house was filled with so much life, and it deserves to be again. It could give a family so much to build from. And I like the thought of children running around here again. It's too quiet."

Clark shook his head. "But mom, this has been our home, the Kent Farm, for generations. Grandpa and dad, and others way before."

Martha nodded. "I know sweety, but I think it's time to move on. So, I've already been looking into the deed and other issues with passing the property on, and…"

"At least let me make an offer. I have savings, and I could get into my pension for a loan maybe. At least let me try mom, don't just sell the property off."

Lois had to dig her nails into his arm to get him to snap out of it this time. "Smallville, let her finish. You might be on the wrong track here, ok?"

Clark looked between the two most important women in his life, confusion crossing his face. Taking a deep breath he looked up at his mom again. "Sorry. Go ahead mom."

Martha laid her hand on his, squeezing his fingers. "I've looked into passing on the property… to you. To both of you. This would be my gift to you as you start your new life together."

Clark swallowed the lump in his throat. The thought of starting his life with Lois in this house, the house he still truly saw as home… that was amazing to him. "Mom, thank you. That is an amazing offer. But…" He looked over to his fiancée… "I can't make a decision like that alone. This is your life too. This affects you as much as me, more even. You work in Metropolis, it's at least an hour commute even with you driving, that's a lot of time on the road."

Lois just chuckled, shaking her head. "Please, like I don't already spend most of my time here anyway. I've put my neck on the line enough times, Perry owes me a little lie way. I can work in depth stories and do a lot of research, less time at my desk. Besides, Metropolis isn't home for me. Smallville is. This Smallville." She poked him in the chest softly. "As long as it's you and me, I'll be fine."

Clark grinned and leaned in closer to kiss her. "Thank you."

"No, thank you. I'd still be a workaholic living off of $5 lattes and take out if you hadn't strolled in playing Sheriff Taylor last year."

Clark turned to his mom, face breaking into a big grin and nodding. "Ok mom. Thank you. Thank you so much."

Martha hopped up and ran around the counter, wrapping both of them in a hug. "Oh I'm so glad you said yes! I was hoping that you'd want your family here."

Sitting back, Clark took a deep breath. "Ok… so Lois and I will move in. We'll clear out the downstairs guest room, and that will give us all some room."

Martha shook her head. "I had something else in mind actually. You know the little hill out near the west fields? We'd always have picnics there when you were little."

Clark just nodded. "Yes ma'am. You'd always pick a few of the flowers to put in a vase. Dad would laugh about it and you'd make him go out and get fresh ones the next few days."

Martha smiled at the memory. "I've always liked that spot. And I was thinking, a nice little cottage right there would be so lovely. A place where I could be, beautiful sunlight in the evenings, breezes off the fields. I'd only be a few hundred feet from the house, so easy to visit, or cook dinner for the family. You and Lois would have the house and be able to grow. But I'll always be with you Clark."

Nodding, Clark pulled her back into a hug. "It sounds perfect mom. If this is what you really want, it all sounds great."

Another round of excited hugs and kisses and the matter was settled. Martha walked back to get her coffee, but she stopped, pointing at her son. "One thing mister. No crying babies until I have my cottage. Understood?"

Clark froze up suddenly. "B-b-b-babies?"

Lois looked at him, concerned. "Clark? Are you alright?" Snapping her fingers in front of his face, she turned to look at Martha.

Martha softly laughed. "He's thought about it before now, but with the gift of the house and mentioning children, he just saw it all coming together for the first time really. It happened to Jonathan when Hiram and Jessica offered us the same thing. He's taking it better though. Jonathan passed out."

/

Castle sat at the counter of the greasy spoon on the outskirts of Granville, finishing off the meatloaf special. Hearing the bell above the door he glanced up from under the brim of his cap, seeing another trucker walk in and belly up to the counter to flirt with the waitress. Swigging his coffee he reached into his shirt pocket for cash, knowing the exact amount plus tip after eating here for weeks now. It was a good place to pick up on local gossip and keep an ear out for anyone who didn't belong or was new in town.

"Wow, 20%. Very generous of you Francis."

Frank's hand smoothly slid to the gun tucked in the waist of his jeans before the person spoke again.

"Unh uh. None of that now. Just here to talk with you. Turn around, hands on your knees."

Putting his hands back down onto his legs, Castle pushed his foot off the font of the counter, looking at whoever had managed to sneak up on him.

Whitney Fordman leaned against the table across from the counter, a good six feet of distance between the two men so Castle wouldn't be able to get to him too quickly. "There we go. I thought we might have a little chat if you don't mind. How's the pie here, can't say I've been to this diner before."

Out of all the possibilities, Frank Castle definitely hadn't seen this one coming.

/

(A.N.) Well of course I've gotta go out on a cliffhanger. I can't spoil you all too much when I just got back can I?


	4. Chapter 4

_Update time. Little faster than the last one at least. Hope you all enjoy._

/

Lois grumbled when she felt her pillow move. Looking up she saw the movie still playing and Mrs. Kent asleep in her lounger, a blanket wrapped around her. "Smallvillle…" she grumbled quietly, "what are you doing? I was comfy."

Clark chuckled to himself, checking his phone. "Just a text message Lois, one second." Flipping it open he dialed through the menu and pulled the message up. His eyes widened slowly. "I gotta go Lois. This is big." Leaning down he brushed a kiss over her lips before sliding off the sofa and grabbing his boots, tip-toeing as best he could toward the door.

Falling back onto the sofa with a bump, Lois sat up as soon as his words hit her. "Clark? Clark get back here!" she rasped out, trying not to wake Martha. "Clark Kent, where are you going?" She ran out onto the front porch, seeing him on the swing as he pulled his boots on.

"I just got a text, this is huge. I have to go. This is what I've been waiting on all week. I'll be back in the morning." Rushing past her Clark unlocked his cruiser and in a flash was heading down the drive, slinging gravel.

Lois shook her head as the door opened, Martha blinking the sleep from her eyes. "Is everything ok? Did Clark get a call?"

Lois just nodded, arms folded as she bit her lip nervously. As often as this happened it still made her nervous when he disappeared like this with almost no warning. "Yes ma'am, he just said it was something he's been waiting for." She turned around and headed for the door. "Well, I won't be getting to sleep anytime soon. Wanna start the movie over?"

/

Whitney sat across from Frank Castle in one of the small booths, watching the front door while Castle kept an eye on the kitchen entrance. While not as paranoid as Castle, he still knew better than to let his guard down in a situation like this.

"So how did you find me?"

Whitney smirked just a bit when Frank broke the silence. "Swam against the current. You're a walking war zone, so it's safe to say you're not going to be in a little hotel room prepping assault rifles and C4 rigs. Started checking house sales and rentals a few months back, land with basements, garages, utility sheds. Nice set up in the back yard. Don't worry, I found the trip wires, your stash is still functional."

Frank's eyes widened just slightly. He wasn't used to someone being able to predict his movements like this. Studying the deputy closer, his brow raised. "You weren't a cookie cutter grunt were you?"

"Nope. Not near the security clearances you were reaching, but I got training. I know how to disappear and not draw attention, not have set pattern that keep you visible. Some drifter living in a hotel room and making trips to a seven eleven to live off microwave burritos and 12 packs of Pepsi stands out. A guy moving into a neighborhood, working in his garage, and having a regular spot in the local diner doesn't. When it looks like you have roots set down, people don't ask nearly as many questions. Isn't that right Frank?" Whitney took a swig of coffee, not taking his eyes off of the man across from him.

Frank shook his head. "Couldn't just be the idiot you looked like dropping your weapon off a locker could you?"

"Nope. And I know you're packing right now, but I also know you're not going to open fire here. These aren't the best kind of folks, but they're not the ones you consider collateral. So let's just keep talking and not think about things like running and trying to escape alright?" Whitney held both hands up, showing he wasn't going to try anything.

Staring at the deputy, Frank took a deep breath and sighed. "Alright, let's taaaaaaaaaa…" Teeth gritted together, Frank felt electricity surge through his body. He tried fighting it but he hadn't been prepared and the volts hit too powerfully. Eyelids fluttering, he fell on his side in the booth.

Whitney got up quickly, dropping some cash on the table. "Wow buddy, you shouldn't have hit happy hour before you came for grub. Come on, let's get you in the car." Slipping one of the limp man's arms over his shoulders, Whitney moved quickly as he realized the effects wouldn't last forever on this one especially.

Within a minute Frank Castle was in the backseat of the cruiser, cuffs and shackles attaching him to the seat as the fog lifted. "What… the fuck… did you do?!" Even when he was mostly out of it his growl still carried a large threat.

Whitney propped one foot up on the brush guard of the cruiser as he walked around to the driver's seat, pulling tape from his boot and pulling wires from the inside of his shoe. "You can do a lot of fun things with a taser, especially when you take the case off, loosen up the restrictor and hide the guts in your sock. Taped the barbs to my shoe, clicked it with my toe to activate it." Shutting the door, he held the haphazard looking rig up for Castle to see from the backseat. "Look ma, no hands."

Getting control over his muscles again, Castle popped his neck. "Inventive. Have to admit I hadn't thought of that one."

Whitney chuckled. "Yea well, you're not really known for 'less than lethal' tactics. The only time you use sneak attacks are when you're layering the building with explosives, hiding in the dark with a karambit or half a mile away with a rifle. Then all hell breaks loose."

They drove in silence for a while before Frank broke it. "What now? You get noticed for taking down another dangerous criminal? You boys are getting pretty famous for that."

Whitney didn't take the bait. "I'm taking you somewhere you can talk with the Bossman. The two of you have more in common than you think. Neither of you can see it because you both think you're doing it the only right way."

Frank scoffed. "Your boss wants me behind bars, nothing else." He pulled against the restraints, grunting. He couldn't get enough slack to try and pull the bar he was shackled to loose. "You obviously don't agree with him. Why are you taking me in?"

Whitney shook his head. "Just because I don't fully agree doesn't mean your way is completely right. All I want is to resolve this without bloodshed in my hometown. You don't think people will come after you? Bring a war wherever you pop up?"

"Let them come. If they take me down, I guarantee I'll take them with me."

"And the people caught in the crossfire? These animals won't have the same qualms you do. What about those people Frank?"

Castle looked up to see Whitney staring at him in the mirror, eyes harder than they were moments before. He let the question sink in. "You… you have a family right? Wife and son?"

"Yup. And my family has already seen enough of the horrible side of humanity without the town turning into a kill zone. Our own local crazies have done a good job of that."

After another quiet spell, Frank recognized some of the roadside. "We're heading away from your station. Why are you taking me to Kent's farm?"

"If we pop up at the station, I know this is gonna get out somehow. And I'd rather keep this low key for now." Pulling into the drive, Whitney pulled up near the porch. "Wait here, I'll go warn them first. Be good, want me to crack a window?" Seeing that Frank wasn't reacting too well to that, he just nodded. "Alright then, be right back." He climbed out of the car just in time to see Lois bound out of the house.

"Smallville, you're back… oh Whitney? What are you doing here?"

Whitney looked around, noticing that Clark's cruiser wasn't around. "I came to see Clark, got someone for him to talk to in the car." He walked toward the porch steps. "Is he here?"

Lois shook her head. "No, we thought he was going to see you. He got a text about an hour ago, said he got a big lead and had to run. I figured that he meant you, so who did he go see?"

Whitney pulled his phone out, hitting speed dial and sighing when it went straight to voicemail. "His phone's off I think." Seeing Martha in the kitchen fiddling around, he gestured to Lois to come down the steps. They stood next to the cruiser, and Whitney spoke in hushed tones. "We got information from a source that there's a dirty cop in Metropolis that was in the meeting we had right after Junior got killed in the alley."

"Well who is it?"

Whitney shook his head. "We don't know. The source didn't give specifics."

"Well that's ridiculous, why are you even taking this seriously? It was only you two, Sawyer and Turpin, do you honestly think she's on the take? And he might be an ass, but Turpin being dirty? Who is this source…?" She trailed off when she noticed who was in the backseat, eyes widening. "Whitney?"

"Yup." He answered right off, already knowing what the question was going to be.

"Is that Frank Castle cuffed in your backseat?"

"Yup."

"And you brought him here?!" She almost shrieked, hitting him in the shoulder several times.

"I wanted him and Clark to talk! There's been too much covert crap going on and we just need to put all our cards on the table, dammit. Besides he was here a week ago anyway, not like he doesn't know where this place is!" Whitney rubbed his shoulder as he got the rest of it out, figuring there was no point for secrets right now. "We need to find Clark, who else could have called him?"

Lois paced next to the car, tapping a fingertip against her chin. "There's not many people who know the Punisher is involved in this… just you guys and the Metropolis police close to Sawyer… Oh! Sawyer, she'd call him if something came up." Pulling her phone from her back pocket she dialed up a number quickly, rubbing her hand through her hair nervously. "Maggie...?" Gritting her teeth together, she ended the call and reared her arm back, ready to let the phone sail. Thinking better of it she slapped it between her hands a few times, feeling a little better from the petulant action.

Whitney watched her put the phone away as she put her palms against her temples. "Voicemail?" He grunted as she nodded. "Alright, I don't have Turpin's number, so we're at square one."

"Yea…" Lois said as she leaned forward with her hands on her knees. "Except for the guy who gave Clark the information." Thumbing in the direction of Whitney's passenger she let out a shaky breath. "Find out what he knows Whitney."

Meeting her steady gaze, Whitney nodded. Pulling his pistol he opened the back door to the cruiser and stayed out of range for Castle to try anything, just in case. "Who's the dirty cop Frank?"

He shook his head in the low light from the porch. "I don't know. An associate found paper trails from case files that have had evidence go missing, witnesses bought off or killed. The cases all fell apart and I kept whittling it down until there are only two badges that all the cases have in common. Sawyer and Turpin. After that there's no definitive proof on who it could be."

Whitney slammed the door with a grunt. "Clark left in his cruiser right? These things have GPS built in I can call up Ian and he'll track it for me." Grabbing Lois' elbow he walked her up to the porch. Ducking inside he looked around and saw Martha had left the room before speaking. "I'm heading to Metropolis. I'm keeping chuckles with me until we can figure all of this out." Gripping her shoulders he looked Lois in the eye. "I'm gonna find him. Trust me on that."

Lois nodded as she took a deep breath. "Oh I do. Because I'm coming with you."

"Hell no, Lois. There's way too much on the line right here, and we're dealing with a textbook psycho. You're gonna stay here in case Clark comes back or gets in contact with you. I'm gonna go and…" He stopped and tilted his head, listening to something. "Oh shit."

Running out of the house he jumped off the porch in time to see his cruiser reach the gravel drive, pelting him as it took off. "Shit! He's good. He's really good."

Lois caught up with him. "Didn't you have him cuffed?"

"Cuffed, leg shackled, and double chained to the seat frame bar on the seat backs. Ah hell, he heard me talking about tracking the car." Pulling his cell phone out he dialed the station. "Riley, get out to Mama Kent's and bring Ian, tell him to bring whatever he needs to track a cruiser. Get on it!" Flipping the phone shut he groaned. "Clark put this in my hands yesterday now we've lost him again, I got my car stolen by a world renowned vigilante, and he's now using our department issued weapons to most likely enact more gruesome vendettas. I hate being in charge."

/

"Captain Sawyer? Maggie?" Clark stepped into the empty office, checking the information off his text message again. Looking around he saw turned over furniture and some scattered papers. The authorities had raided the satellite office of an Edge shell company looking for evidence, and it had been left in the same, sad and disheveled state. The property hadn't been sold off yet apparently. "Maggie, I got your message."

The air filled with a boom just before he felt something slam into his chest, sending him to his knees gasping for air. The beanbag slug had caught him in the stomach and driven the air out of him. Pushing himself up he reached for his weapon in time to hear another click and a second shot caught him in the chest, knocking him to his back. The pain and lack of oxygen made his vision hazy as he tried to focus on the shape coming closer. He swiped at the barrel of the riot shotgun pointed at him but missed. The last thing he saw was the butt of the gun coming at his face.

/

_Next update will come sooner. Hope you're sticking with me, and thanks to all my readers and followers. _


	5. Chapter 5

_Well, being sick gives you plenty of downtime, so I knocked out the next chapter. Hope you all enjoy._

_/  
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The first thing he noticed was the bitter taste of metal. Trying to spit but more drooling in his barely conscious state, Clark winced at the pain the movement caused through his head. Eyelids fluttering open slowly he looked around the room. Sparse office furniture and papers told him he hadn't been moved after being knocked out. Flexing his arms he felt tape pulling at his skin around his wrists, his upper arms and chest felt tight as well. Glancing down he saw duct tape across his chest and was unable to move his legs, realizing he was tied to the cheap office chair.

"You're awake. Impressive. Figured that you would have been out for a while longer."

Not even looking up, Clark shook his head at the voice. "Should have known it wasn't Maggie as soon as you shot me with the riot gun. She would have just tried to kick my ass, not take the easy way like you Turpin."

Dan Turpin sat on a desk against the wall, scoffing as he looked down at the shotgun. "Just don't know when to shut the hell up do you redneck?"

Pulling in a deep breath, Clark pushed past the throb in his head, trying to focus. "So it's true. You're on the take. What'd Edge offer you that's worth selling your soul?"

The riot gun rattled in his grip. "Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"What? That's what it is right? Is it money? Please tell me it's not money, it's unoriginal. He offer you a spot in his organization? Power you don't get in the department?" Spitting out another bit of blood from his split lip, he winced. "Does it piss you off having a woman as a superior that much?"

"Shut… up."

Knowing he was on dangerous ground, Clark still kept pushing. "What comes with the power? Influence, looking big and bad to women? Not getting any respect at home, wife not showing you respect anymore?"

That must have been the last straw, as Clark found himself looking down the barrel of the riot shotgun. "Shut up!" Turpin pressed the barrel to Clark's forehead. "What do you think will happen if I pull the trigger point blank? Won't be making any jokes when you can't even remember how to tie your own shoes will you Kent?! If you even survive it."

Clark stared back at the man, meeting his eyes. "If you wanted me dead, you'd have just done it. What are you planning? Hand me over to Edge?"

Taking a bit to get himself under control, Turpin stepped back and lowered the gun. "They don't need anything else out of you. You'll do more good when they find out that you were murdered by the Punisher after he tried to get information out of you." Reaching inside his coat, Turpin grabbed the knife they'd pulled out of Billy, still in the evidence bag.

Clark chuckled. "You're going to plant evidence and make it look like the Punisher crossed the line, started taking out good cops? Did it even occur to you that they'll wonder why the knife is missing from evidence when he could just use a different one?"

Turpin shook his head. "He's already slipped into the department once, who's to say he wouldn't again. And it's common knowledge that some cops root for him, he might have had help in the department. It doesn't matter, public opinion will be all they need and Frank Castle won't be the cool vigilante anymore." Pulling the knife from the bag, he twisted it in his hand. "Makes our jobs harder for us anyway. Follow the book and do things right and we still take a backseat to people like him."

Clark laughed louder at that statement. "You're planning how to murder me and pin it on someone else because the crime lord you destroy evidence for told you to in order to make it easier for him to continue his Mafioso lifestyle. And you're gonna sit there and talk about how vigilantes make it hard for 'honest' cops to do their jobs? You've got brass ones don't you?" Flexing his hands behind him he felt the tape stretch slightly. Repeating the motion he felt it give a bit more.

"Would you just shut up? You don't know anything about what's going on here, you don't know why I'm stuck in this!"

"Stuck? You're 'stuck in this'?" Clark shook his head. "You're helping that scumbag get away with murder, and now you're about to commit it yourself. How many others have you taken out for him? How are you spinning this for yourself, Dan? This isn't self-defense. This is premeditated, first-degree murder. Your reasoning is a big pile of bullshit but not even you can spin first degree murder into an acceptable excuse."

Turpin moved quicker than he expected, smashing a fist into Clark's face. "Shut up!" Walking back to the desk Turpin grabbed the knife. "You… you're a good cop Kent. You took down a lot of bastards, people we weren't able to. That made me hate you. But I respect you, too. I'm sorry it came to this." The hand gripping the knife shook slightly. "I know you'd understand why I have to do this."

Clark struggled as he got closer, straining against the tape. As Turpin pulled the knife back Clark felt some give at his right leg. Pulling as hard as he could the metal bracket snapped loose. Kicking his leg out he caught Turpin in the knee, sending him down on one leg with a scream. Using the momentum from being off balance he shifted forward, slamming his forehead into Turpin's face and grabbing for the knife with his now free hands, duct tape dangling from his wrists.

Falling to his side Clark cut at the tape around his chest and upper arms. Turpin was moving toward him again. Making it through the tape he realized he was still stuck to the chair. Ripping at the front of his shirt, buttons flew as he shrugged it off.

Turpin lunged at him, trying to reach the knife that had skidded a few feet away. Covering up with his arms, Clark defended against the punches that rained down at him. Taking a punch to the face again he grabbed at Turpin's hair and threw an elbow, hearing the crunch of cartilage. With the minor reprieve he kicked at the chair still taped to one leg, tape snapping under the leverage. Pushing himself to his feet he found himself face to face with the riot gun again.

Turpin glared, snarling through the blood flowing down his face. "Why do you have to screw everything up?!"

Clark shrugged, wiping blood from his hands on his t-shirt. "I've always been stubborn. Got it from my dad."

Turpin winced slightly… before raising the gun to aim at Clark's head. "I'm sorry Kent. I'll make it quick while you're out."

Clark heard the shot ring out… then opened his eyes. Realizing he was still alive he looked at where Turpin had been standing. Looking down he saw him on the ground, gripping at his shoulder with blood flowing through his fingers.

"Guess this answers who was on the take."

Clark spun around and saw Frank Castle holding a gun still trained on Turpin. "Where did you… how'd you know where I was?"

"Deputy Fordman… found me earlier. He took me to your mother's farm to talk to you, found out he'd missed you by a half hour and no one knew who you were meeting. He let it slip your cars are lo-jacked." Castle moved closer, not lowering the gun.

Clark watched the gun, realizing it didn't move off of Turpin. "How did you get here? Where's Whitney?"

"Last I saw he was in the farm house. I borrowed his car." Staying out of Clark's range he watched Turpin trying to slip away. "Now I'm gonna finish this. No one else is going to get a free pass because he's on Edge's payroll." Pulling the hammer back he met Turpin's eyes.

Clark moved quickly, stepping between the men. "I can't let you do that."

Eyes widening, Castle looked up. "Are you kidding me? He was about to stab you in the heart and now you're protecting him?"

Clark shook his head. "We do this the right way. He works for Edge. He has information we can use. We can do a lot more good with him alive."

Clark could hear the slight click as the trigger tensed barely in the silence of the room. "You still have faith in your system? He's one of your people! He's been usurping your system to help criminals for years!"

"You think I don't realize it? You think I don't know what he's done, how many people he's fucked over and the damage he's done?" Clark stepped closer, causing Castle to raise the pistole slightly higher. "I know the damage he's caused. But I also know we need him. He's got information we can use. He knows others that are in our system, he knows things about the syndicate we can use. And I know somewhere deep down in his tainted soul, there's a hint of the good cop he used to be. If you kill him, we lose any upside we could get off of finding out he's dirty."

Glancing back at the man still bleeding on the floor, Clark gritted his teeth remembering how close he came to dying earlier. "You believed in the system once Frank. You had faith in it. I know you lost everything, you lost your family because of people like Edge. If you kill Turpin, and we can't prove he was connected, Edge continues to screw people over and get away with it. Turpin has a family. He has a wife, and a little boy. If he dies and is exposed as a dirty cop, they become victims too. If he turns state's evidence, they at least still have him there to help them through it. Think about them."

Castle's hand wavered. If nothing else, he did think about the families. The victims left behind because of corruption and greed. "He should have thought of them before all of this Kent."

"I did."

Clark turned to face the man still on the floor, trusting Castle enough not to shoot through him if he still stood in front of the gun. "What are you talking about?"

Turpin pushed himself to sit up against the desk, still holding his bleeding shoulder. "When I got transferred here years ago, I didn't realize my partner was dirty. He was rolling perps, taking a percentage from them and he'd keep them out of jail. He tried doing it to some of Edge's men, and he pulled me into it. I could have said no, gone to the higher ups, but I thought it would taint my name with his. He got killed when we tried making a move, shot right in front of me by Edge himself. He laughed at the two of us, trying to take a cut of his business. He told me I worked for him now, and I said no. Then he started talking about Suzie… my fiancé. He knew about her, her family, my family… he knew everything. If I didn't work for him from inside the department, he said he would leave me for last."

Clark looked at Castle after Turpin went quiet, seeing the gun had been lowered. He stepped to the side, looking back and forth between the two men for a moment. "He was protecting his family. He did it in the most screwed up way imaginable, but he was just trying to protect them. You can at least understand that, can't you?"

Castle's glare burned into Clark's when he looked up, teeth gritting together. "Don't push it." Looking back at Turpin, he let out a shaky breath. "You'd do anything to protect them… even at the expense of other fathers, other husbands. You let so many die in vain to cover your own ass!" Raising the gun he advanced, realizing Clark wasn't trying to stop him.

Clark didn't make a move toward him. "Let him make it right. We can get the people he helped go free."

Glaring at the bleeding man on the floor, Castle grunted. "Do you know the difference between justice and punishment, Turpin?"

Turpin shook his head slowly, unable to look away from the gun barrel trained between his eyes.

The shot rang out loudly, snapping the temporary peace Clark hoped had been achieved. Looking over to Turpin, he steeled himself for what he'd see. A neat bullet hole had pierced the desk next to Turpin's head by what could only be millimeters, just above his ear. The hand not applying pressure to his shoulder was pressed to his ear, mouth wide in pain from the sound of the bullet hitting the metal desk so close to his ear. Clark looked over to see Castle staring at him, holding the pistol backwards by the grip and offering it to Clark. "He's damn lucky you do."

Clark took the offered weapon just in time to hear footsteps rushing in the hallway outside. The main office door burst open, Whitney and Riley rushing in with weapons drawn. "Clark? Are you alright? Where's Castle?"

Clark didn't break away from Castle, thinking over what to do. "If you're gonna run, you have to do it now."

Castle looked surprised at the offer, but he didn't move. "Not this time Sheriff." Turning, he faced the wall with his hands behind his back.

Whitney opened the door, gun drawn. "Clark? Are you ok? Who else is here?"

"Castle and Turpin. Turpin's been shot, he needs a bus."

Whitney was shocked to see the Punisher facing the wall, obviously surrendering. "Ian, get the medics up here! Riley, cuff Castle and watch him carefully." He walked over to Clark, taking in the bloody shirt and face. "You ok Bossman?"

Clark nodded. "Yea. I will be." Putting the gun down he fell onto a desk with a groan, feeling the adrenaline wearing off quickly. Lifting his shirt he saw the bruise on his stomach from the beanbag spreading already. "I'm tired of getting shot at." Holding his ribs he took a slow breath, feeling them hitch.

Whitney shook his head. "I'm getting tired of having to swoop in and save your butt."

Clark raised a brow, looking up at the deputy. "Tell me… how is it Castle got here before you did? In your cruiser? With a department issued weapon?"

Whitney looked around, clearing his throat. "You know, Lois is worried about you. You should call and tell her you're fine."

After back up and the EMTs had arrived, and Clark had a moment to discuss what had occurred with Turpin and Castle for the "official" statements, Clark was sitting in the back of an ambulance on the phone with Lois. "I'll be home in a little while, you and mom get some sleep… No, I'm fine I swear… No Lois I won't put Whitney on the phone he's busy. Stop with your threatening voice, after tonight it's not that scary…. No, that doesn't mean anything bad happened… I'll talk to you when I get back to the farm, bye Lois, I love you." Ending the call quickly he tucked the phone in his pocket. He finally let out the groan from getting his ribs and shoulder taped up.

"You know, I've worked on you more than some of the cops in the city I actually work for, Sheriff Kent."

Clark chuckled, reaching for the plaid shirt someone had thought to separate from the duct tape. "Well Bloome, I like to branch out, visit old friends now and then."

Davis Bloome shook his head with a grin. "You know the routine I'm sure? Watch your movement, ice packs, get them checked out if you start feeling sharp pain or think they're broken."

Clark nodded. "Trust me, this is one I'm very aware of how to handle." Shaking the medic's hand, he winced slightly. "I'll be taking it easy for a while. There's usually a lull after big stuff like this. Good to see you again." Pulling the shirt on, he checked to see if he'd left anything and turned just in time to bump into Davis who dropped his jacket, items scattering on the ground from his pockets. "Damn. Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"Not a problem, really. It's been a long day."

Both men crouched, picking up the scattered items. Clark was walking away when he heard a crunch and pulled his boot back. "Missed one. I'm sorry man." He knelt and picked up the crushed single dose packet. "Thorazine. This yours or…?"

Davis grabbed it quickly. "No, it's part of the field kits. Antipsychotic, used in case someone is off their meds or if we need it on hand."

Clark nodded. "Gotcha. I'd feel really bad if I'd screwed up your blood pressure meds or something."

Davis shook his head. "Nope, not an issue. We cycle them out regularly anyway. Don't worry about it Sheriff." He watched Clark walk away as he tossed some of the trash into the waste, looking around before slipping the pill pack back into his pocket.

/

Clark had sat quietly on the ride back to Smallville with Ian driving his cruiser. Whitney followed them to the farm and took Ian back to the department, telling Clark he'd be in contact in the afternoon.

Lois met Clark at the porch, hugging him tightly but pulling back when she felt him tense and heard him fighting the whimper of pain. "You told me you were alright."

Clark nodded. "I'm fine." Cupping her face he stroked his thumb over her cheek, smiling softly.

Lois looked confused. "What's going on? What are you thinking about? You've got that look."

Clark shook his head thinking back over all that Castle and Turpin had to face, the losses and fears. And here he stood, looking at the promise of such a bright future. "Just… after tonight I truly realize how lucky I am." Kissing her softly he opened the door for her. "But for now, it's time to sleep. I'll tell you all about it in the…" checking the clock in the kitchen he sighed. "Ok, later in the morning than it is now."

Martha stood at the bottom of the stairs, waking up after hearing the doors shut. She rushed over and touched Clark's face, seeing the bruises, but just shook her head. "Welcome home sweety," she said with a smile.

Clark grinned at that, remembering that this was going to truly be their home now. "Good to be home," he said mostly to himself, hugging both the women tightly, thankful for all of it.

/

_Alright, only the epilogue is left to wrap up some things, and hopefully we'll be back on track in the Sheriff Kent universe. Thanks to all my readers, and please feel free to leave a review. _


	6. Epilogue

Epilogue

Pulling up next to the barn, Clark got out of the cruiser with a slight wince. Just over a week later be was mostly healed, but his ribs were still feeling it. Walking up to the front door he stepped into the farm house to see Martha speaking with someone at the dining room table. Hearing the screen door swing shut she looked up from the papers and smiled. "Good morning sweety. There's fresh coffee and some cinnamon rolls on the counter."

Clark just grinned as he poured himself some coffee, noticing the man at the table had a cup and an empty plate in front of him. "Careful Garrett. She'll stuff you with goodies then talk you into doing hard work, worked on me all the time growing up."

Garrett Davis laughed, taking a swig of coffee. "Oh I think I can handle it." He stood up, reaching out to shake Clark's hand. "How is the local celebrity? First Morgan Edge, now you manage to catch the Punisher. Trying to make the rest of us Smallville boys look bad?"

Sitting down at the table Clark looked over the papers. "Oh don't be modest. Vince still has the demolition crew, you started the construction company and it's been growing every year. You sure Davis Construction has the time for a small job like this? I saw your crew won the bid to extend LuthorCorp's processing center."

Garrett just nodded. "Always happy to help out. Your family was there for us when Vince was sick back in high school, it's the least I can do to help out. Besides, it'll be nice doing a smaller job again. In all honesty, I'm getting tired of the big steel girder and cinder block jobs. I started out doing add-ons and houses."

Martha turned a few pages around so Clark could see. "Garrett has had some wonderful ideas for the cottage, it will be so beautiful Clark. Just like I had imagined."

The design sketches did look good, and the small house looked like it would fit in just fine with the rest of the farm.

She wasn't finished though. "And just think, a few years down the road I'm sure Garrett could even do some work on the house if you needed another bedroom added."

Clark coughed, almost spilling the coffee he was drinking right then. Hitting his chest he cleared his throat, ignoring the laugh Garrett was failing to hide. "We'll… we'll deal with that when… if!... if it comes up later on."

After a bit more discussion Clark walked out onto the porch to see Garrett off, checking his phone. "Mom, I gotta hit the road. Gotta get to Metropolis."

Martha walked out with a travel mug of coffee for him. "I know. I'm not sure I like you getting involved in another prisoner transfer, especially this one."

Clark sighed, putting an arm around her shoulders. "I know mom. It'll be fine. This one shouldn't give us as much trouble." Kissing her cheek he trotted down the stairs. "We'll see you tonight?"

"Of course sweety. Be safe, tell Lois hello for me."

Climbing in the cruiser, Clark headed down the drive and turned to swing by the station and pick up Whitney.

/

Lois paced around the office, buttoning her coat back up after managing a few private questions with Captain Sawyer earlier for her story. "Alright, I have to get out there for the press conference, even if I have the juicy details already." She walked back over to Clark and pulled the lining of his TAC vest open, looking down. "There are three in there, right? We know three works, just in case. You put an extra one in right?"

Clark groaned, gripping her hand and pulling it away. "Yes Lois, I'm fully prepped. Stop worrying alright?"

She looked at him like he'd just told her the sky was purple and marshmallows were raining down. "Stop worrying? Are you kidding me? You go to lunch to meet my dad and end up fighting a psychotic mountain troll disguised as a busboy. You pull over a speeder who turns out to be your cousin and it ends up with us in a bar fight with a cheesy biker gang. You get your pocket picked and that ends up with you taking down a decades old child abuse and corruption ring. So excuse me for thinking that while you're heavily armed and transporting a vigilante with more kills under his belt than a teenager hopped up on Red Bull playing Halo, that you might be in danger. And why do I think that? Because… oh yea, the last time you were on protective detail, you got SHOT by the guy you're transporting in this detail. Still gonna try the stop worrying line on me buster?"

Clark just grinned. "You know you're really sexy when you get all flustered."

Lois gaped at him, her mouth shutting quickly, lips pursed together. "You… no fair derailing my perfectly good rant over you and your tendency to get into trouble."

Whitney groaned from his spot next to the door. "Oh come on, don't do that mushy thing where you start to make out just because he managed to shut you up once in a while. That's really weird when you guys do that kind of thing in front of me."

Lois huffed. "Please, like you didn't linger in the bathroom the morning after you two had your golden grain adventure and you walked in."

Whitney glared. "That was only because I couldn't believe you would desecrate an item built for cleanliness in such a way. It had nothing to do with the perky regions it was currently nestled between."

Lois' eyes widened at that statement as she turned to glare at Clark.

Clark just held his hands up. "He's not talking about me. None of my regions are perky."

She slapped him in the shoulder repeatedly. "You told me you talked to him after and he said he didn't really see anything!" she whispered harshly.

"Well apparently he lied, go hit him!"

Lois grumbled all the way out of the office, casting glances at both men that promised of much pain and suffering to come in the future.

"You know at this rate we're gonna start getting invited to protect the president, right Bossman?"

Clark just shook his head and chuckled. "I don't see that happening anytime soon Whit." Tightening the straps on his vest he leaned against Sawyer's desk, arms crossing over his chest. "Not getting nervous are you? Last time we did this you got skittish, didn't have my back in the alley."

"Well excuuuuuuuse me Clark. I had just seen my best friend take one to the chest, then in the confusion while I was worried about the crowd and innocent civilians the same best friend disappears to chase a fugitive on his own. Sorry I couldn't keep an eye on your scrawny butt." Whitney leaned back in the chair, feet kicked up on the corner of the desk.

"On the floor Deputy, this isn't your squad room." Maggie Sawyer swept through the door, file in hand. "And it's a perfectly fine butt." Clark's eyes widened at that while Whitney nearly fell backwards out of the chair. "At least according to a certain reporter who might speak a bit more freely after a few margaritas," she added with a slight tilt at the corner of her mouth.

Clark shook his head. "I'm not sure I like you and Lois having these girl's nights, I keep catching hell for it one way or another." He pointed at the captain. "You didn't have to tell her about the muscle head that attacked us when we helped you guys on that steroid ring a few months ago."

Sawyer looked at him like he was crazy. "Are you kidding me? He literally picked up another man and swung him at you like a baseball bat, not to mention how he caught Fordman. How can I not tell someone about that?"

Clark just chuckled while Whitney grunted. "She still gives me hell about that. Like I had time to move off the stairs before he threw the poor bastard like a lawn dart. My knee still clicks, do you hear that?" Flexing his knee to prove his point, Whitney grunted again when the others just laughed.

Clearing his throat, Clark took a deep breath before broaching the sensitive subject. "How are things with Turpin's case?"

Maggie tapped her fingers on the desk. "He's naming names. A good many more than any of us would like. His family is in extreme deep cover, they already have new names and he has not been informed of them yet by his own request. He wants to give us everything he can before he takes the next step."

"What about jail time? He facing any or does the deal wipe his slate?" Whitney asked.

"He's not going to be squeaky clean, and he is going to be heavily monitored and any opportunities restricted most likely for the rest of his life. But with everything he has to offer they're afraid to put him in prison. Edge has a long reach, and that would make it so easy for him." Propping her chin against her fish she sighed. "He was a good cop. Before this started, and I think even all this time there was a good cop in there."

Clark just nodded at her words.

Whitney chuckled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yea he might have been a good cop. But damn if he didn't hate us."

Clark looked over to his deputy, a rebuke on the tip of his tongue before soft laughter stopped him. He was surprised to see Sawyer trying to hold back a giggle.

She couldn't though, and it soon bloomed to full, deep laughter. "Oh he definitely hated you guys. I swear I could hear his blood pressure raise when you would show up. And if the word 'Smallville' got tossed around somehow, he'd start turning red." Sipping her long cold coffee she let out another laugh. "Sometimes I'd say 'Sheriff Kent' just to get a reaction from him."

Clark and Whitney left the office to pick up their weapons for the transfer, ignoring the looks everyone was giving them as they left the Captain's office where unfamiliar laughter was ringing loud and clear into the squad room.

/

Standing in position outside of the temporary holding cell, Clark looked up at the sound of metal sliding on metal.

Frank Castle was led out of the small hallway, shackled at the legs and wrists with thicker than normal chains and barely enough chain between his feet to shuffle forward. Clark signed off on the sheet feeling a strange sense of déjà vu.

"I'd like a minute to speak to Sheriff Kent… alone."

Whitney looked over to Clark after Castle's request.

Clark stared back at the hardened man before nodding, handing his rifle and side arm over to Whitney. "Just in case. I don't think he's crazy enough to try and shoot his way out of the station, but who knows."

Whitney took the weapons and gestured to the half dozen officers assisting, all of them stepping down the hall a bit to offer a little privacy.

Clark didn't move, hands at his sides and ready just in case.

Castle's lip twitched and for a second it seemed like he might smile. "No worries Sheriff, I'm not going to try anything."

"What did you want to talk about Castle, we've got a schedule to keep."

Not breaking his gaze, Castle grunted. "I just wanted to say thank you."

That did have an effect on Clark, leaving him confused. "Thank me?"

Castle nodded. "You were right. Sometimes our system can work, it just needs the right people to make sure it does. You and your people… you are what it needs to make it work. I lost sight of that and thought my way was the only way that Justice could be served."

"So… what? This is you saying you were wrong?"

Castle shook his head. "Not wrong. Just not completely right either. It can work, but it also has a lot to overcome. And you put your life on the line to make sure we could take a step toward that protecting Turpin that night. I heard that he has been holding up his part of the bargain."

"He hasn't stopped talking since they read him his rights apparently."

"That's good." Castle finally broke the stare down, leveling his gaze at the floor for a moment. "And his family?"

That surprised Clark, but it really shouldn't have he decided. "They're protected," he said, leaving it at that.

"Good. That's the most important thing."

Clark could see the pain bearing down on the man even as he tried to brush it off. "We found your home base in Granville. Somehow Whitney managed to track it down pretty quickly."

The grin threatened to come out again as Castle looked up at that. "Not a half bad grunt."

"No he's not. They found weapons stashes, not much in the way of personal effects. Except for this." Unsnapping the front of the vest he reached into his uniform shirt pocket before fixing the vest, holding up a dog eared photo that had faded over the years slightly.

Castle looked at the picture, the only thing he'd carried of Maria and Will through the years since he'd lost them. He tried reaching for it but couldn't, his hands attached close to his waist so he didn't have much leverage.

Clark folded the picture again and reached over, carefully slipping it into the neck of the prison issue jumpsuit. "Figured you'd want to hang onto that."

His jaw set, Castle took a moment to respond. His eyes softened for a moment before he steeled himself again. "Thank you."

Clark just tilted his head in acknowledgement, knowing the second thanks was much more sincere than the first. "I did have a question for you actually."

Castle raised a brow. "Ok?"

"Why didn't you run? I gave you the chance against every instinct inside of me and you didn't take it. Why not?"

This time there was no mistaking it. The grin managed to curl Frank Castle's lip finally. "I'm tired of always being on the run, chasing down murderers and criminals and having to find the scum to deal with them."

Clark shook his head, confused. "So now this is what… retirement?"

"Not at all Sheriff. I like to think of it as a change of pace. Sort of… working from home."

Before Clark could say anything else, Whitney walked up. "His ride is here Bossman, we gotta go."

Clark took his weapons back as Whitney discreetly shook Castle's hand. "Careful in the big house Francis. I'll send you some soap on a rope first chance I get."

Shaking his head Castle shuffled to where he was directed between the officers. "How do you put up with this jackass every day?" he grumbled over his shoulder toward Clark.

The meaning behind Castle's "change of pace" sunk in, and Clark had to laugh a bit as he moved into position. "He keeps things interesting. Apparently you Marines have a knack for that."

"Oh we definitely do Bossman. By the way, I got a new idea for the taser I wanted to talk over with you, we can discuss it while we got Frank here, he helped me with the prototype."

Clark sighed as he readied himself, going into high alert. "He might be shackled, but do you really wanna push your luck Whitney?"

The rest of the walk out of the building was oddly quiet.

/

_It took a long while, but it's done. I hope it lived up to expectations, I'm happy with it. I've got a few ideas that hopefully i can get on paper soon.__ Thanks to all of you who stood by it. It's greatly appreciated.  
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_Barry  
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